March 10, 2001
by David Young
Three crisscrossed daffodils
faint lamps in the rubble
where without any warning
I'm shattered by your absence
wondering will I always
blunder into this emotion
so large and mute it has no name
—not grief longing pain
for those are only its suburbs
its slightly distracting cousins—
summoned just now by these
frilled blossoms
butter yellow horns
on lemon yellow stars
indifferent innocent
charging in place
when I will join you.
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1 comment:
Do tears return as flowers? My eyes are filled . . . guess that means I liked this, a LOT!
xoxoxo
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